


Quiet

by LizzyPaul



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyPaul/pseuds/LizzyPaul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The apartment was too quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet

Marco walked into his apartment. It was clean, as usual. With his mother dropping by ever other day and Ax, there wasn’t time for dust to settle. It was quiet, though. Ax nearly always had the TV on. Sometimes Marco would walk in to the radio and TV blaring. The neighbors never complained--who would complain about international heroes?--but someone slipped a politely worded note under the door that said, in diplomatic language, “Your Andalite is fucking loud, make him stop.” 

It was too damn quiet. Marco scowled, and turned the TV on. 

He wandered back to the bedroom. It looked the same. Ax didn’t pack up any of his clothes, of course, as he wouldn’t need them. Ax didn’t own much. Hell, Ax didn’t own anything. 

“Maybe that’s why he left,” Marco thought. 

He sat on the bed. Then he stretched out. It was big. He bought it big, big enough for Ax to sleep with him even after his two hours was up, and he thought he knew how big it was. But he hadn’t slept alone in the bed for months. It was cozy with two. It seemed vast when he was in the bed by himself.

“Stop that,” Marco told himself. He pushed himself up and off the bed and wandered into the kitchen.

He opened the freezer. He thought he might have some left over ice-cream, or at least some frozen cream puffs. If Ax hadn’t eaten them--but then, he didn’t have to worry about that. “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about him eating the leftovers,” Marco said, and started to cry.

The freezer was cold, and his wet cheeks tingled. He blinked blurry eyes, and realized his freezer was more stocked then he’d though. Several pints of Ben & Jerry’s were neatly arranged on the shelves. He had a brief thought that Ax had left him a parting gift, but saw the sticky note. He pulled it off. “Hope this helps. Call me if you need anything. Love, Cassie.” Marco grabbed a container of something that looked vaguely chocolate.

He sat down on the couch, and pulled open the ice cream. The first bite slid down his throat, and the cold urgency in his stomach started to fade. “I’m such a damn girl,” he thought. “Next I’m going to watch _Steel Magnolias_ or some shit. Lifetime, here I come.” He felt like crying again, so he took another bite. 

The phone rang. He let it go to the answering machine. His voice and Ax’s, muffled by technology, rang in the silent room. It was a quirky message, and Marco used to think it was hilarious. Now he wanted to hurl the machine across the room. “*BEEP*” he heard, after the message had played through, “Marco? It’s Cassie. I just wanted to check on you. Um…I left some stuff in your freezer. I’m here if you need to talk…or just want to go, um, I don’t know…call me, okay?”

“No,” Marco said out loud. He didn’t want to talk to Cassie. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Well, Ax. He wanted to talk to Ax. But that wasn’t going to happen. 

“FUCK IT!” he yelled. He hurled the container across the room. It hit the wall with a splurch and splattered brown across the white carpet. He didn’t care. The spoon clanged against something metal. “Fuck it,” he whispered to himself. He walked out of the living room, and into the guest bedroom.

The guest bedroom had been Ax’s bedroom for two months, until they got over the posturing and he moved into Marco’s room. They moved a bed inside and Marco felt like a real grown-up for the first time. A house, with a _guest bedroom_. Christ. It hadn’t been used in ages, but it was clean. His mother, Marco supposed, or Cassie. He certainly hadn’t worried about it. 

The bed was smaller, and off the ground; it didn't need to support the weight of a demorphed Andalite. Other than it and a small desk, the room was devoid of furniture. A single, uncovered light bulb hung from the ceiling, giving the room a soft, incomplete light. Marco collapsed on the bed. He didn’t bother to kick off his shoes or crawl under the covers, but he gathered one of the two pillows in his arms. 

He didn’t cry, but his eyes burned. He fell asleep. 

*~*~*

It wasn’t like it was unexpected. It wasn’t like there had been a final fight that had set it off. It was calm, almost. A quiet ending, that made the whole relationship seem even more unreal. 

Marco should have realized that getting an apartment wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Ax hated it, but was willing to put up with it. There was a courtyard. Marco never wanted to live in the country again. He’d spent long enough dealing with bugs and dirt and lack of video games. He liked having a Safeway across the street and a McDonalds down the corner. He liked being surrounded by people, especially since he didn’t have to worry that any of them were planning to kill him. He’d spent years hiding and keeping all of his social relationships superficial, and was making up for lost time. There were forty people in his building, and he knew all their names by the end of the first week. 

The Andalite council sent messages, every month or so. They were politely worded “invitations,” at first, then became more insistent. They started talking about leaving together. Then, suddenly, Ax stopped talking about it. Marco figured that he just wanted to stay on Earth, and let it go. He didn’t realize that the problem was him.

There were small fights. Ax was tired of cleaning up after him. Ax was tired of being left in the background while Marco schmoozed the press. Marco was tired of Ax eating the last of the food without telling him, and each electricity bill caused a small conflict. When Ax wanted sex, he wanted it _then_ , and months into the relationship still didn’t understand what was appropriate to say or do in public, and what wasn’t. 

And then Ax came to him, over breakfast on a Monday because God hated him. He sat down across from Marco, grabbed a piece of bacon off Marco’s plate, and before Marco could bitch at him, calmly said, “I’m leaving.”

Marco didn’t understand at first, of course. Ax didn’t offer any explanations beyond duty and honor, which sounded hollow. He didn’t offer to let Marco come along, and Marco knew not to ask. He did anyway, and was given the humiliating answer that he wasn’t invited, though Ax tried to word it politely. 

A week later, Ax was gone. 

*~*~*

Eva went to unlock the door, and found it already opened. She pursed her lips. Marco might feel secure, but there were certain habits that Eva just couldn’t shake. And, as she liked to remind her son, just because the Yeerks were gone didn’t mean he couldn’t be killed by robbers like any other cocky suburbanite. Morphing didn’t do much good if you were killed in your sleep. 

Once inside, she went straight for the TV and flipped it off. Then she saw the ice cream on the floor, melting all over the white carpet. “Oh my god,” she murmured disapprovingly. She picked it up, and tried to keep it from dripping. She tossed it in the garbage, and looked to the floor. She thought about cleaning it up, but she had better ways to spend an hour. Marco was rich. He could hire a damn housekeeper, or do it himself for once. 

Speaking of Marco…

The door to the guest bedroom was open, and she saw her son sprawled across the sheets. His brow was furrowed, peace eluding him even in dreams. She leaned against the doorpost and just looked. He was curled up in a ball, a pillow clutched in his arms. Her heart burned.

It was her fault. She knew that. 

She didn’t have a problem with Marco being gay. She’d seen enough in her lifetime, and her son had done enough for their family, to accept almost everything he threw at her. She liked Ax well enough. He was funny, and flustered Jeremy. Jeremy was so cute when he was flustered.

But he wanted to take Marco away, and that was not going to happen. 

She had fought and survived for too long to have her family torn apart _again_. She had gone _years_ without holding her baby boy. She had missed his most important years. She was not going to let him leave--across the galaxy? In danger again? No. And Eva was quite prepared to do whatever it took to keep him on Earth and with her.

It wasn’t like she’d done something horrible. It wasn’t like the relationship wasn't already damaged. And who stuck around with their high school crush? Especially a gay crush? A gay _alien_ crush? It was ridiculous to think the relationship would have lasted, even without her interference. 

It was easy enough to convince Ax that Marco would be desperately unhappy in space. Ax was half-convinced already. It was easy to convince Marco that Ax needed to leave, and that keeping him on Earth was selfish. It wasn’t anything that Marco didn’t already know. And beyond that, she was just being sympathetic. Agreeing with Ax that Marco was a slob, like a good mother-in-law. Agreeing with Marco that Ax was embarrassing and difficult, like a good mother. 

Sometimes, Eva could almost believe that it wasn’t her fault at all. 

Well. It was her mess, in any case, whether because she had caused it or simply because she was Marco’s mother. And she was going to take care of her baby.

She walked over to him, shook him lightly. He stirred, and blinked up at her. “Mom?” he mumbled. 

“Hey, Marco!” she said, brightly. “I’m taking you to dinner. Well, your father and I. Get dressed.”

Marco turned away from her. “I don’t feel like it.”

“I know. I saw the ice cream.” Marco tensed. “Get up anyway. We’ve already made reservations.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Yeah,” she said. “Gotcha. Come anyway. I’ll buy you a drink, not that anyone would object to serving Marco the Magnificent alcohol.” 

He finally rolled over and looked at her. “ _Excuse_ me? You’re offering to get me _drunk_? I know it’s been awhile since you’ve done the mothering thing, but that’s generally considered a no-no.” 

Eva kept from showing how much his joke hurt, but barely. “Not drunk,” she said, “dulled, maybe. Get up.” 

Grumbling, he rolled out of bed. He padded down he hall to his bedroom, throwing off his shirt as he walked. Eva looked away. She’d left a boy. Now his chest was defined, with small black hairs trailing down to his waistband. He was a man. And hadn't been there. She bit her tongue to keep from crying. She had to be there now. For Marco. 

“I hate this fucking place,” she heard him mutter. 

“You’re welcome to come stay with us,” she said. “Considering you bought the house…”

“I’m thinking of buying a beach house,” he said. “With the money from the consulting gig and the book deal, it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“I still can’t believe you’re writing a book,” she said. 

“I’m not,” he said, in the same monotone he’d used since waking up. Well, maybe after a night out with his loving family, he’d feel better. “Jimmy the ghostwriter is. But I get the money, and I get to go on Jon Stewart, so it’s fine.”

“You’ll like the beach,” Eva said. “You’ll need a housekeeper, though.” She glanced back towards the living room. 

A smile tugged at the corner of Marco’s mouth. “I’m thinking of getting a butler.” 

“Even better,” she said. She looked him over. He seemed presentable, but she’d been prepared to take him out in his pajamas. “Ready to go?” 

“No,” he said, but he walked towards the door. She followed. He stopped in the entry way. “Damn,” he swore. “I miss him, Mom.” 

She heard the catch in his voice, and put her arm around him. “I know, honey,” she said. “It’s okay.” She paused, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Marco said, pulling away. “It’s not like it’s your fault.” He walked out the door, and she followed. 

**END**


End file.
